


The Image of the Dead (Dead Ends in My Mind)

by graysonofgotham (cruel_oath)



Series: What's Expected of You, What's Expected of Me [1]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Post-Episode 116: Failsafe, Romani Character, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-04 12:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18344090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruel_oath/pseuds/graysonofgotham
Summary: Before the Team's failsafe simulation, it seemed like Dick's future was clear—he'd fight the good fight, then take up the Batman mantle when Bruce either retired or died protecting the innocent. Now, after being in Batman's shoes, he finds himself no longer wanting to wind up like his mentor.Dick is supposed to lead this Team someday, but he doesn't want to be the kind of leader Batman is. Fortunately, he's not alone.





	1. Wally West

A week after the simulation, Robin still sees the bleak picture of Earth under siege of an unbeatable alien armada every time he closes his eyes. He sees Artemis disappear before his very eyes, feels the weight of the world land on his shoulders when Aqualad sacrifices himself to save the rest of them, hears Superboy’s thoughts suddenly cease when they infiltrate the mothership. He feels the fire against his skin, smells flesh burn, hears a cacophony of panicked whispers in his head until he feels nothing at all.

He means to tell Black Canary at his League-mandated counseling session about the nightmares and the daydreams (daymares?) and how he still smells Wally’s burning flesh. He had planned on mentioning the random texts he’d send his friends to make sure they were still alive, and how he’d panic if they didn’t answer within a few minutes. He has every intention of being _honest_ about his feelings… but none of that comes out of his mouth. Instead of his teammates screams or the vivid visions of them disappearing before his very eyes (his fault his fault _his. fault.),_ he pours his heart out over another fear.

“I don’t want to be _the_ Batman anymore.”

Strangely enough, Robin feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders when those eight words leave his mouth. He pauses, waiting to hear Canary’s response, but the room remains silent.

It feels like a dam breaks.

“And I… it feels like I’m _betraying_ him, saying that out loud,” Robin says. “Batman, he’s… he’s done so much for me _._ Everything he’s taught me has kept me alive, and here I am, questioning it, questioning _him._ I wouldn’t be who I am today if it weren’t for him, and I’m grateful for it, believe me, but… I watched my teammates… my _friends_ die. I know I’ve grown attached, but what am I supposed to do, pretend I don’t care about them? He wants to keep everyone he cares about at arm’s length, and I get the reasoning behind that, but… I can’t… I don’t…”

The words die on the tip of his tongue. He rips the shades off his face, scrubs at the tears threatening to fall with the sleeve of his jacket in a sudden fit of frustration. _Why can’t you get the words out?_

“Robin,” he hears Canary say. “It’s okay.”

He raises his head, looking her in the eye. He can’t find the energy to lash out and tell her that it’s not okay, that it’s the most not okay thought he’s ever had, that he’s throwing away _everything_ his mentor taught him.

“You are your own person, Dick,” Canary continues, her voice soft. “You don’t have to be a carbon copy of your mentor. You’re _Robin,_ not _Batman.”_

 _Not yet,_ he thinks.

He thinks of an old saying he heard Daj use once when he was little. _Či perel a phabaj kathar pesko kaš maj dur._ The words don’t quite roll off his tongue like they used to, but he could never forget their meaning. Back when he first lost his parents, it was almost a comforting phrase, something that reminded him that no matter what, a little piece of his family would remain alive.

Now, it’s a phrase that haunts him. Robin knows he picked up plenty of Batman’s habits, knows that his teachings are deeply rooted into what was once a name he associated with the comfort of his mother’s arms.

He doesn’t tell Canary that part.

Robin’s time runs out before he can get around to telling her about the nightmares. Before he leaves to get M’gann for her counseling session, Canary reminds him that she’s always available if he needs to talk. They both know it’s unlikely he’ll actually seek out additional sessions, but he can’t really blame her for trying.

He drags his feet on the way to the kitchen, thinking back to Canary’s words. _You’re_ **_Robin,_ ** _not_ **_Batman._ **Two weeks ago, he would’ve been insulted. Now, the words he spoke back on Santa Prisca haunt him.

“Closest thing we’ve got,” Robin whispers bitterly.

How close? How many steps away from Batman is he? Is there a fork in the road where he can get off this path, or did he miss his chance when he took that oath four years ago?

“Robin?”

He tears his gaze away from the floor, finding M’gann standing in front of him. He has to force himself to look her in the eye, force himself to keep it together when he sees the concern and _guilt_ shining through. Robin wants to tell her that it’s not her fault, that she hasn’t gotten the hang of her powers just yet, but he reminds himself that Canary is probably wondering what’s taking so long.

“Hey, Miss M,” Robin says, his voice sounding far too small for his liking. “Um… BC’s ready to see you.”

“Okay. There’s… there’s cookies on the counter, if you want some,” M’gann says, trying to put a little cheer into her voice. “Chocolate chip and snickerdoodle.”

Robin feels the corners of his mouth lift ever-so slightly. “Thanks, M’gann.”

They start to go their separate ways. Robin makes it halfway through the kitchen before he hears M’gann call his name. He turns his head, raising an eyebrow.

“I swear I wasn’t reading your mind, but… are you okay?”

 _If Batman were here,_ an irritating little voice in the back of his head says, _he’d kill you for letting your thoughts get so loud._

“Not feeling too tressed right now, to be honest,” Robin says, offering what he hopes is a comforting smile to the Martian. “But I’ll get there. I always do.”

The smiles he gets in return is… _sad._ M’gann turns away and walks down the hallway, leaving an unspoken apology hanging in the air.

_I’m sorry I put you all through that._

Robin lets out a soft sigh. “I’m sorry I let everyone die.”

* * *

 

_Recognized: Robin, B-01_

The Batcave is dead silent when Dick steps out of the Zeta-Tube. He lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, grateful that Batman wasn’t present. He didn’t think he could face his mentor right now.

 _Nothing leaves this room,_ Canary had told him. Dick has no reason to doubt Dinah will keep her promise and not tell Batman, but Batman doesn’t really _need_ her to tell him anything. He has his ways of finding answers without confrontation―Dick would know, he’s been taught _every. last. one._

It occurs to him that Batman probably bugged the room, or that he probably watched the security footage from his session, but Dick can’t find the energy to feel anything about it. Right now, he just wants to lock himself in his room and find a way to keep Robin from sinking into the darkness that was threatening to pull him under.

Dick slips the utility belt out from under his hoodie, setting it with the rest of his Robin gear. He pulls off the shades, tucking them into pocket of his jacket before walking up the steps to the elevator that leads to the grandfather clock.

“Good evening, Master Dick,” he hears Alfred say as he steps out of the elevator.

“Hey, Alfred,” Dick greets, offering the butler a tired smile. “Is B out?”

“He is. Would I be correct in assuming you will not be joining him tonight?”

Dick nods. “Yeah. I know he said he’d unbench me after I’ve jumped through all his hoops, but I… I guess I’m not really up for it tonight.”

“Ah,” Alfred says, “not quite ‘feeling the aster’ tonight, as you would say.”

Dick lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah.”

The old butler offers Dick a comforting smile. “Master Bruce figured as much, so he took the liberty of inviting Master Wallace to stay the night. In fact, he should be arriving any minute.”

As mentally and emotionally drained as Dick feels right now, he can’t help but smile. “Thanks, Alf. Send him to the game room and I’ll meet him there in a few?”

“Of course, Master Dick,” Alfred says.

Dick watches Alfred walk down the hall and turn the corner. He stands by the grandfather clock for few more moments before walking in the opposite direction. As he makes his way to his room, he takes out Robin’s phone and types out a message.

_thanks_

He knows he probably won’t get a reply, not for a message unrelated to their work, but he doesn’t really mind. A lot of people mistake the Batman’s silence as something cold, that he’s _ignoring_ you, but Robin knows better. It’s a language that Robin knows well.

In his room, Dick changes out of his civvies and into an old Gotham Knights T-shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts. He pulls out the sleeping bags he and Wally use for their sleepovers, along with a change of clothes for Wally because he can never remember to bring his own (but he _does_ manage to remember his costume, the idiot).

Dick gathers everything he needs up in his arms and walks towards the door, wasting a few seconds cursing at the doorknob and shifting items around in his arms because he’s _stubborn_ and the very idea of taking more than one trip is an _insult_ to the Boy Wonder.

(He drops items every few steps, but hey, even mathletes make miscalculations.)

He finds Wally in the game room, along with a stack of pizza boxes from the pizza parlor in Happy Harbor that the team frequents at least once a week. He’s in the middle of setting up _Super Smash Bros. Brawl,_ a slice of pizza hanging from his mouth.

“One of those better be for me, Kid Glutton,” Dick says, jerking his head towards the pizza boxes. He drops his cargo onto a nearby chair, approaching the speedster.

Wally wolfs down the rest of the slice he’s currently working on. “C’mon, what kind of best pal would I be if I didn’t bring anything for you?” He leaves the Wii and walks over to the stack of pizzas, scanning the labels on the side. When he finds the one he’s looking for, he slides it out and sets it aside. “The usual―green pepper, mushroom, black olive.”

Dick takes one of the plates Alfred must’ve set out for them, placing two slices of pizza onto it. “So, you remembered my usual order, but I bet you didn’t remember to bring a change of clothes.”

Wally groans. “One of these days I’ll remember.”

“And I’ll someday be taller than Bruce,” Dick says, snatching up the clothes he brought down for Wally and tossing them onto the couch cushion beside him.

Wally takes the clothes and speeds off, returning moments later dressed in an old Flash sweater he _swears_ he’ll take home (but never does) and a pair of sleep pants. He reclaims his spot on the couch to polish off the last few pieces of meat lover’s pizza.

For a little while, Dick is able to forget about the simulation. He and Wally spend the first half of their evening playing _Brawl_ and trash-talking between bites of pizza. Dick cackles with delight when Fox McCloud launches Donkey Kong offscreen, winning his fourth round in a row.

“Dude, come _on,"_ Wally groans.

“You’re _predictable,_ Walls,” Dick cackles. “Maybe you should try someone other than Donkey Kong.”

“Excuse me? At the cave, I’m unstoppable as Donkey Kong!”

“That’s probably ‘cuz Supey, Kal, and M’gann have _never_ played a video game before joining the team,” Dick says. “If _I_ were there, I’d wipe the floor with you before you could land a hit on anyone else.”

Wally snorts, his cursor hovering over Donkey Kong. “I’ll have M’gann’s moral support to― _Kirby,_ dude? _Seriously?”_

“Proving a point here, pal.”

“Whatever, Dick. Kirby _so_ doesn’t stand a chance against Donkey Kong.” Wally’s cursor hovers back and forth between three different stages before he ultimately decides to hit _Random_.

The battle ends quickly, in spite of Wally’s insistence to go by stock instead of time and have the stock set to _six_ instead of their usual three. Wally flops back onto the couch, pouting as they watch Kirby’s victory pose flash across the screen.

“So,” Dick says, “what was that about Kirby not standing a chance against Donkey Kong?”

“It was the stage!”

“Well, you _did_ give the computer the power to choose the stage on your behalf.”

“Dude! You ninja’d me!” Wally says. “No fair, using your Bat-training in a video game!”

“It’s called strategizing,” Dick says, picking up another slice of pizza. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Yeah, whatever you say, Batman.”

Dick stiffens, nearly dropping the pizza. “I’m _not_ Batman,” he says, a bitter edge creeping into his voice.

Wally gives Dick an alarmed look, holding his hands up. “Dude, chill! It’s a joke!”

“I… I know,” Dick sighs, setting the pizza down. Suddenly, he’s not feeling all that hungry. “I’m sorry, Wally, I just…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, I promise,” Wally says. “I’m just a little surprised, y’know? A few months back, you were kinda all about becoming the Bat.” He sets the controller down, turning to face Dick. “Look, I didn’t ask Bruce any questions when he invited me over, but I _did_ get the impression that something was wrong. Did something happen between you two?”

_The smell of burning flesh hits his nostrils. Wally’s scream of agony is intensified by the psychic link. Agony, fear, despair, ohgodIdon’twanttodie. The very last thing he feels before darkness takes him is M’gann’s last remaining threads of hope being severed as a new ship takes the place of the one they gave their lives to destroy._

Dick pulls his knees up to his chest. “No. Nothing happened between me and Bruce.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that,” Wally says, wearing his _I’m-not-actually-as-dumb-as-I-act_ expression. “Does it have anything to do with Bruce? _Batman?”_

Dick is a good liar―when you’re the adopted son of a billionaire socialite who also happens to fight crime alongside aforementioned billionaire, it’s an essential skill to have―but Wally has known him for over two years. He was the first person he revealed his identity to, the first person other than Bruce that he trusted with his life. They knew each other as well as they knew themselves, and that meant they could see through each other’s lies.

But this isn’t exactly a lie, is it?

“No, it has nothing to do with Batman. Not in the way you’re thinking, anyway.”

If any of his other teammates were here instead of Wally, they would’ve pressed for answers―Kaldur and M’gann out of concern, Conner and Artemis because they care (even if they’re too stubborn to say it out loud). It means the world to Dick, knowing that his friends care so much, but he isn’t like the rest of his team. He’s forced to conceal his identity, forced to keep himself distant. They didn’t exactly understand that Bat-business―and this _is_ Bat-business―had to stay between the Bats. But Wally, he understood. He _hated_ it, but he understood.

“Alright,” Wally says. “One more question, then I’ll drop it.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Dick shakes his head. “No. Are _you?”_

Wally lets out a bitter laugh. “Far from it, dude. I know it’s stupid―”

“It’s not,” Dick says. “That simulation, it fucked with everyone.”

“Still, I kinda feel like I should be over it by now.”

“Your accelerated healing only works on physical injuries, dude,” Dick points out. “Trauma, that’s something that takes time, and even then, it… it never really heals. Not completely.”

“Guess you’d know that better than anyone, huh?” Wally lets out a soft sigh. “This is getting depressing. C’mon, let’s go back to beating the snot out of each other.”

“You mean let’s go back to me kicking your big, hairy monkey butt.” Dick picks up his controller, sets the stock to six, and selects Zero Suit Samus.

(And if Wally notices that Dick purposely threw the match, he doesn’t complain about it.)


	2. M'gann M'orzz

Dick thinks he’s improving. Once Batman has cleared him to go out on patrol and undertake missions with the team, he throws himself into his work, and all his ugly thoughts go away for a little while.

Then Batman puts him in charge of a squad.

He tries to not-so-subtly weasel out of it, but his mentor stands firm―“You’re the next logical choice,” he had said, silencing any further argument. Robin knows not to question Batman, knows that showing any sign of doubt in his abilities means that he doubts Batman’s teachings. If Batman believed Robin doubted him, then he’d strip him of his name and take him off the team he had grown to love as family.

So, takes all his doubts and locks them up in a box, burying them as deep as they would go for the sake of the mission. In the process, he draws attention to Marie Logan, nearly gets Gar killed, and forces one of his friends to _lie_ to prevent an international incident from occurring.

“Dude, saving a country,” Wally had said, giving his shoulder a light punch. “Pretty big win for your first turn as _leader.”_

(He can’t help but feel his actions will hurt someone. Maybe not now, but he knows Queen Bee won’t let this go.)

With Bruce Wayne (and therefore, Batman) in Qurac, they debrief in the Bio-Ship. Batman’s criticisms sting more than they usually do, and in the back of his mind, it makes him wonder if _this_ is how Kaldur feels at debriefings. As Batman’s protégé, he’s no stranger to his criticism, but… did it _always_ feel like a knife twisting in his gut?

 _“Good work,”_ Batman finally says. _“Robin, I expect a full written report first thing in the morning. Batman, out.”_

Normally, any scrap of praise his mentor offered felt like salve, soothing the burns that Batman’s harsh criticism left behind. Now, it does nothing to loosen the knot that has settled in his stomach.

He doesn’t _deserve_ praise. His _team_ did, but it was his decisions that got innocent civilians involved. _He_ allowed them to remain longer than necessary, _he_ allowed Gar to get hurt, _he―_

_Robin?_

He stiffens―Kid Flash and Superboy don’t appear to notice, but that’s not really what he’s concerned about. _M’gann?_

 _Don’t worry, I’ve blocked Wally and Conner out of the psychic link. It’s just us._ He feels a wave of calm settle over him like a blanket, warm and soft and gentle. _Your thoughts have been… loud lately. Not enough for me to tell what you’re thinking, of course, but enough for me to know you’re struggling with―_

 _I am_ **_not_ ** _struggling with anything._

 _Robin,_ M’gann deadpans, _I might not be able to read your thoughts as clearly as I can read everyone else’s, but I can feel your emotions. You’re on edge._

He _could_ lie. Batman’s training has prepared him for situations where he might face a telepath out on the field―he knows the walls he has put up will hold, that they’ll keep all his dirty little secrets locked up and away from M’gann. Or, he could shut her out. Tell her that what goes on in his head has nothing to do with her.

It’s what Batman would do.

 _“You don’t have to be a carbon copy of your mentor,”_ he hears Canary say in the back of his mind. _“You’re Robin, not Batman.”_

She’s right. He isn’t Batman. He’s _Robin,_ and maybe _Robin_ doesn’t feel like lying or shutting people out.

 _M’gann,_ Robin finally says, _am I really meant to be a leader?_

The question catches her off guard. _What? Robin, of course you are. I know back at Santa Prisca we chose Kaldur, but we all agree that you’re the one meant to lead the team once you’re ready._ Robin can feel M’gann’s smile through the psychic link. _You did great, Robin._

 _I painted a target on Marie’s back,_ Robin says. _I nearly got Gar killed._

_If anyone put Marie in danger, it was me. I’m the one who insisted we stayed longer than necessary because I was just so excited to meet one of my heroes. And Gar… his injuries weren’t your fault, Robin._

_But I could’ve―_

_You can spend your time thinking about all the things you could’ve done,_ M’gann says, _or you can use this as an opportunity to learn. You’re a human being, Robin. You’re allowed to make mistakes._

In theory, Robin _knows_ that. He’s perfectly aware that humans aren’t perfect, that they make mistakes, but he’s only ever heard that as Dick Grayson. All _Robin_ ever got was lectures about how failure wasn’t an option. Failure meant that lives would be lost. Failure meant that the bad guys get away.

So, hearing it now, in costume, with the Batman nowhere near him to tell him otherwise felt… good.

 _Thanks, Miss M,_ Robin says. _I guess it’s easy to―wait a minute. Are you… are you quoting_ Hello, Megan! _right now?_

Apparently, it’s possible to feel someone blush over a psychic link. Who knew?

 _Episode 16,_ M’gann says. _It’s the one where… nevermind. You probably aren’t too into sitcoms._

 _Not usually,_ Robin says, the corners of his mouth quirking upward, _but I try to keep an open mind._

Robin feels M’gann’s delight through the psychic link. _Then maybe we could watch_ Hello, Megan! _together sometime? Oh, oh, we could even get the entire team in on it!_

As M’gann rambles in his head, Robin pulls up his holo-computer, deciding he might as well take advantage of the ride back to Mount Justice and work on his report. As soon as the screen pops up, a notification at the corner grabs his attention. He taps it, pulling up the message thread he and Batman use for non-urgent communication.

_Will be in Qurac until tomorrow evening, then I have an important meeting with the League. Will be back in time for Thanksgiving dinner. Agent A had been informed that you will be staying at Mount Justice until then._

_Understood,_ he types out. He hits ‘send’ before closing out the window, then opens up the file labeled _Robin’s Case Notes._ As he starts typing, he tunes back into M’gann’s ramblings.

 _Y’know, M’gann,_ Robin says, _Bats just gave me the day off tomorrow. Maybe we could start our_ Hello, Megan! _marathon then?_

 _That’s a wonderful idea, Robin! I’ll go ahead and send a text to the rest of the team tonight, then see what everyone else’s responses are first thing in the morning._ She’s practically _vibrating_ with excitement now, already rambling about what snacks she’ll make. Her thoughts eventually withdraw, leaving Robin to focus on his report.


	3. Artemis Crock

Dick finds the Haly case while he’s in the middle of updating the Batcomputer’s firewall, a task Bruce passed on to him when he realized Dick’s technological abilities had surpassed his own. At first, he had believed it was an old case file, something from before he became Robin, but the file was updated just a few days ago. That’s red flag number one.

When he tries to open the file, he gets an error message that reads _ACCESS DENIED_ (red flag number two―Batman _never_ denies him access to case files). It takes him twice as long as it normally would to hack his way in (red flag number three, turn _back,_ don’t go any further), and when he has _finally_ bypassed the security measures his mentor put in place, he’s met with something that makes his heart _drop_ into the pit of his stomach.

There are reports from all over Europe detailing break-ins at facilities housing everything from weapons to technology. Reports state that components have been taken―components to _what,_ Dick isn’t sure, but that’s the least of his concerns.

All the break-ins coincide with stops on Haly Circus’ European Tour.

“When did you plan on telling me about this, Bruce?” Dick asks, his eyes never leaving the screen. His voice echoes through the cave, and if he weren’t so goddamned _infuriated,_ it would’ve sent chills up his spine.

He can pick out the subtle _swish_ of his mentor’s big, heavy cape as he approaches. He doesn’t need to turn his head to see that the Batman is right behind him, looming over him as though he’s just another criminal. He feels his mentor’s disapproving glare, and in response he allows that darkness he fights to keep inside him to rear its ugly head, just enough to make it clear that intimidation won’t work now. Not for _this._

“You were going to keep it hidden, weren’t you?” Dick hisses, glaring at the screen. “You were just going to quietly go about your investigation and let Jack lose the circus.”

“This is not a high-priority investigation, Dick,” Batman tells him. “I saw no reason to―”

“Interpol is already on this! There’s no doubt they suspect Jack! For all we know, someone on the outside is using the circus as their scapegoat!”

“Or,” Batman says, turning the chair so Dick is facing him, “Jack Haly is having members of his troupe steal components for an unknown device that could be _dangerous.”_

“He wouldn’t do that!”

“How can you be so sure, Dick? You haven’t seen Jack Haly in over four years. The Flying Graysons were Haly Circus’ greatest attraction―for all you know, the death of your family might have resulted in a change of heart. He may have grown desperate. He may have _always_ been crooked, and you were too young and naïve to see it.”

Dick glares at his mentor, his gaze penetrating the white lenses of the cowl. “He. Wouldn’t. Do. That.”

It’s not the first time they’ve ever had a standoff―they had one back when Bruce insisted that it was far too dangerous to take Dick under his wing, and another the day after Robin had teamed up with Aqualad and Kid Flash to investigate Cadmus, leading them to Superboy. He stands his ground, his gaze never wavering.

_This case is too close to you._

_That’s exactly why I need to investigate this for myself._

_You might get hurt._

_I’d rather find out for myself than hear it from you or Cat Grant._

Batman lets out a soft huff. “I will hand this case over to you under the condition that you take a squad with you. I expect you to keep your cover―one false move, and your teammates will know _everything.”_

_Be careful._

_I will._

* * *

 

Two days later, Robin stands before the poster featuring the Flying Graysons.

There’s an ache in his chest when he sees the six silhouettes, a longing that burns so fiercely, he has to tamp it down before M’gann catches wind of it. It’s been _four years_ since Zucco took them away, yet the crack of their bones hitting the ground and their blood mixing with the sand remain fresh in his mind.

There’s a flood of memories―Daj and Dat telling him bedtime stories, helping Beebee make pies during the holidays, lessons with Kak, playing with Johnny and Zitka. Robin wants to believe that it’s the cold night air making his eyes sting, but that doesn’t stop the tears from falling.

_The circus is the only place where their memory lives on. You have to save it._

He’s _trying._ He’s doing everything he can, but what if―

 _No. Do_ **_not_ ** _start thinking like_ **_him._ ** _Open mind, remember?_

Robin straightens up. One way or another, he _has_ to find the true culprit _before_ the next robbery―if not for Pop Haly, then for Daj and Dat. For Kak, Beebee, and Johnny.

For the boy _Robin_ used to be.

“Should you really be out right now, Dan?”

Robin turns his head, finding Artemis approaching him. She’s bundled up to protect herself from the cold, and in her arms is a thicker jacket. She hands the jacket to him, her gaze reading _put it on before you get pneumonia, you little idiot._

“I’m starting to feel the aster, Ar―Diane,” Robin says, pulling on the jacket.

“But the _dis_ hasn’t quite gone away yet, has it?”

“I’ll manage. Besides, I’m feeling a lot better than earlier.”

“While I am happy to see you up and about,” Artemis says, “that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, tilting his head ever so slightly. “Not sure what you’re talking about, Diane.”

“Like hell you don’t, Brat Wonder.” Artemis’ expression softens, morphing into something more _concerned_ than _annoyed._ “We’re all mentally linked. While I might not be able to tell exactly what you’re thinking, I _can_ tell that you’ve got some pretty strong feelings about this place.”

 _Shit._ Maybe that twenty-four hour virus affected more than his ability to move.

“Look,” Artemis continues, “I’m not trying to pry here―trust me, I know a thing or two about wanting to keep your business _private―_ but you _are_ my friend. I’m not exactly the best with… emotional baggage, but I’m here for you. We all are.”

Robin’s gaze turns to the ground. He wants to tell her―he _trusts_ her with his life, regardless of who her family is, regardless of what Roy has to say about it―but the bat-shaped shadow lurking in his mind holds him back. It fills him with doubts, makes him question Artemis’ loyalties. _Trust no one, not even her._

(He’s so _tired_ of hearing that thing talk.)

“This circus used to be my home,” Robin says.

He feels Artemis’ staring at him―he’s not sure if it’s shock or disbelief or pity, but he can’t bring himself to look. When she doesn’t say anything, he continues, his mouth moving on its own.

“We were all one big family, y’know? I didn’t really notice it at the time, but we were all outcasts in some way. Here, all us outcasts fit in. It didn’t occur to me just how… _cruel_ the world outside the big top could be.”

_His first gala, he overhears an elderly socialite’s whispered slurs. She says them with such venom, he winds up hiding behind Bruce’s leg for the rest of the evening. When she comes to properly introduce herself, he won’t look her in the eye. He refuses._

“I’ve forgotten a lot about my old life here,” Robin says, tearing his gaze away from the ground. “I’ve started to forget mom’s face, dad’s voice. It’s getting harder and harder for me to remember my native language, so… the circus is the only thing left of the life I was _forced_ to leave behind. I _have_ to prove Haly’s innocence, ‘Mis.”

“And if it turns out he’s the culprit?” Artemis asks.

Robin lets out a bitter laugh. “There are plenty of people on this team who think Haly’s involved. If I’m wrong, fine, but… someone’s gotta be in his corner, just like he was always in _our_ corner.”

A comfortable silence falls over them. There’s a voice in the back of his head screaming _you’ve told her too much, she’s going to find out who you are, who_ **_Batman_ ** _is,_ but he shuts it out. Just this once, he says to hell with secret identities.

To _hell_ with Batman.


	4. Conner Kent

This was  _ bad. _

As it turned out, there was a mole… he just weren’t on the team for a very long time. The Roy they knew was a Project Cadmus clone, just like Superboy, but his objective had been different―to infiltrate the Justice League. Now, the League is under the control of Vandal Savage.

Robin isn’t sure what kind of information this “Starro Tech” has access to, but he’s willing to bet it might be more sophisticated than standard mind control. If Vandal was able to get Batman to give him and Klarion access to the Watchtower, then chances are good that he has access to Batman’s― _ Bruce’s― _ memories.

“If we’re going to find a way to free the League from Savage’s control, we need to get to a proper lab,” Kid Flash says. “The Bio-Ship just doesn’t have the right equipment for us to properly reverse-engineer the Starro Tech.”

“We don’t exactly have a long list of options,” Artemis points out. “We can’t go back to the cave and they’ve probably got Leaguers waiting for us at the Hall of Justice.”

“What about S.T.A.R. Labs?” Miss Martian. “They might even help us engineer a cure.”

“Can’t risk it,” Kid Flash says. “That route puts too many innocent lives at stake. Plus, for all we know, they might be expecting us there.”

“Kid is right,” Aqualad says. “It would seem Vandal is a step ahead of us.”

Robin hasn’t felt so  _ hopeless  _ since the day his family was torn away from him. The team has nowhere to go, their mentors are in the hands of an immortal who has likely been playing them from the very beginning, and they don’t know where to go from here.

_ Batman would know what to do,  _ Robin thinks.  _ He’d already have a plan right now, and a back-up in case that one fell through. _

He’s not Batman… but he’s the closest thing this team’s got.

“I think I might have an idea,” Robin says, pulling up the Bio-Ship’s navigation system. “Miss M, I’m inputting the coordinates now.”

“Received,” Miss Martian says. “ETA is 40 minutes.”

“Where exactly are we heading?” Rocket asks, glancing at the holographic map Robin has pulled up.

“The one place Vandal won’t be able to find us,” Robin says.

* * *

 

“My friend,” Aqualad says as they disembark the Bio-Ship, “are you certain Vandal will not think to look for us here?”

“The Batcave’s Zeta-Tubes aren’t accessible to the Justice League―even Superman and Wonder Woman can’t enter without Batman’s approval. I had Agent A lock them down the minute I suspected Batman was compromised.” Robin waits for his teammates to disembark before guiding them up the set of stairs that lead to the main level of the Batcave.

“Very well.” Aqualad turns to the team. “Kid, you will analyze the Starro Tech with Zatanna, Red Tornado and I. We will work to reverse engineer it and find a way to neutralize it. Miss Martian, clear any residual programming from Red Arrow’s mind. If you find any intel that might be related to what Vandal has planned, alert me immediately. Artemis, you and Rocket remain with Black Canary. Robin, Superboy, gather what we need to take on the entire League, should it come to that.”

They go their separate ways. While Aqualad takes his group up to the lab, Robin and Superboy walk down to the lower levels of the Batcave, past the trophies he and Batman have collected over the years.

“Didn’t take Batman to be the sentimental type,” Superboy says as they walk past the giant penny.

“He’ll deny it,” Robin says. “He calls this place his evidence locker, but he’s not fooling anyone. He’s worse than Kid Flash when it comes to his trophies.”

“Is… is that a Tyrannosaurus Rex?”

“See what I mean?”

Superboy lets out soft huff of laughter, giving him an amused smirk―Robin considers it a victory. After a moment of silence, he asks, “You think Superman has a trophy room?”

Robin pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Hard to say. I’ve never been to his Fortress of Solitude, and I’ve never really thought to ask. But if I had to take a guess, I’d say a guy that has his head that far up his ass would probably have a trophy room.”

“Guess he would, huh? He’s  _ Superman.”  _

“He and Batman used to hate each other, y’know?”

“They did?” Superboy asks. “Aren’t they best friends or something?”

“Not how Batman would put it, but yeah, I guess you could say they’re best friends.” Robin stops in front of the giant Joker Card. “Agent A says that Superman didn’t approve of Batman’s methods― _ still  _ doesn’t, but he’s made peace with them―and that Batman thought Superman was too naïve. They were at odds for years, right up until a few months before the Justice League was founded.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Robin continues, “is that he’ll come around. That’s just how he is. He hated Batman’s methods until he saw  _ why  _ he used such methods. He worked  _ alone  _ until he learned that sometimes not even  _ Superman  _ can stop everything on his own. This might just be what Superman needs to get him to understand that you’re a hero, not the weapon Cadmus wanted you to be.”

Superboy seems… doubtful. Robin doesn’t blame him―the clone has heard “he’ll come around eventually” for the past six months now. “You didn’t take me all the way down here just to give me a pep-talk, did you?”

“No,” Robin says. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed, going toe-to-toe with the League isn’t going to be easy. The big three in particular are going to be the hardest to take down, so we’ve got to go in prepared.”

Robin leads Superboy down one more level. The platform is entirely bare, save for a series of vaults. Robin approaches one of them, connects a cable to it, and pulls up his holographic computer.

“Behind this vault is lead-lined box that contains Kryptonite. I’m  _ hoping  _ we won’t have to use it, but a mind-controlled Superman isn’t going to be easy to take down.” Robin frowns at the screen, noting that it’s taking  _ much  _ longer to hack into the vault than he had expected. “Wow, he  _ really  _ doesn’t want to let anyone get their hands on this. Guess Superman had his reasons for trusting Bats to hold onto it.”

In the end, it takes nearly ten minutes for Robin to get the vault open. He disconnects the cable from the vault and stows the little box away in his utility belt, turning to face Superboy. “We’ve got what we need from down here. Let’s go see if they need any help up at the lab.”

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Superboy asks. “Batman holding onto Kryptonite, I mean.”

Robin hesitates. Of  _ course  _ it bothers him. He’s carrying something that can hurt his friend. If he’s not careful, he could wind up  _ killing  _ Superboy. The fact that he’s even  _ considering  _ using the Kryptonite on Superman―a man he considers his  _ uncle― _ makes him feel sick to his stomach.

“Yeah, that’s a stupid question,” Superboy says. “I don’t have to be a detective to know you don’t want to do this at all, but I think we both know that there’s a good chance you might have to. No matter what, I just want you to know that I trust you, okay?”

For once, the voice in the back of his head has nothing to say.


	5. Kaldur'ahm

In the end, the team’s plan works out―the Justice League has been cured of Vandal’s Starro Tech, the Watchtower is back under their control, and League Zeta-Tubes are once again secure. It’s a good excuse to celebrate, Robin thinks, but there’s still some loose ends to tie up.

Namely, those missing sixteen hours.

Robin excuses himself from the the team’s victory party-slash-New Year’s celebration a little after three in the morning, entering the Watchtower’s meeting room. He takes a seat at the table and starts pulling up monitors, determined to see if he missed  _ something.  _ He skims through Watchtower security footage until the point where Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Hawkwoman, Martian Manhunter, and Green Lantern John Stewart go through a portal. He puts the point where the portal appears to the point where it disappears on loop, listening for Klarion’s incantation… except there is no incantation.

Robin plays the video again, keeping his eyes on Klarion. The Witch Boy’s mouth never moves―in fact, he’s preoccupied with the monitors controlling the League. That rules out magic. 

“Something troubles you, my friend?”

“Honestly, Kaldur,” Robin says, not looking away from the monitor, “a lot about today was pretty troubling.”

“Indeed,” Kaldur says. He approaches Robin, sitting down in the seat beside him. “And would I be correct in assuming that you have come here in an attempt to piece together the missing sixteen hours?”

“Uh-huh.”  _ Rewind, playback at half the speed. _

“Though I agree the possibility of the two of us overlooking something is there, I believe searching for such answers can wait.” Robin feels Kaldur’s hand rest on his shoulder. “There will be time tomorrow to comb through security footage. For now, you should rest.”

“This is too important to put off, Kaldur,” Robin says. “If magic isn’t what opened the portal, then there has to be  _ something  _ we’re missing. There has to be…”

His voice trails off when he turns his attention to Vandal. Just before the portal opens, Vandal raises his hand, which appears to be holding something. Robin zooms in on him, enhancing the image until he finds what he’s looking for―a little black and red box.

“I think that might be it,” Robin says. He isn’t able to get a very good shot, but he takes what he can get and runs it through both the Justice League and the Batcave’s databases. “I don’t think that tech is from Earth. It’s gonna take a while to comb through the data we have on every alien species the League has ever encountered, but it’s a start.”

“How long, Robin?”

“Dunno. Could take an hour, could take an entire day.” Robin types out the timestamps of the video before dismissing his case notes. “While that’s running, I’ll talk to the six Leaguers of interest and―”

“I do not believe that would be wise,” Kaldur says.

“You don’t think it’d be wise? What kind of leader are you?” Robin questions, narrowing his eyes at the Atlantean. “Who knows what Vandal could’ve had them do?”

“I am a leader who knows the limits of my teammates,” Kaldur says, his tone calm. “If you believe this is not the best course of action, then I would like to remind you that I am willing to step down at any time.”

_ Conner’s thoughts stop suddenly. He feels Wally’s utter sense of betrayal through the mind link when he realizes Dick knew all along that they weren’t on a rescue mission. He feels M’gann’s horror when she realizes that he and Wally aren’t going to make it out, then nothing at all. _

“No,” Robin says, a bit too quickly for his liking. “I mean…”

Kaldur’s expression softens. “I believe there is something more troubling you than just the missing sixteen hours.”

Robin’s gaze shifts downwards, settling on the polished surface of the table. This isn’t like Canary’s counseling session―the room is unsecured, meaning anybody could walk in at any moment. With his luck, that person could be  _ Batman,  _ and if that  _ does  _ happen, then that hard conversation he’s bound to have with his mentor later tonight could become even more difficult.

(He’s so  _ tired  _ of dealing with these thoughts on his own.)

“The simulation,” Robin says. “After you died, I took leadership because I felt the team needed direction. The entire time, I thought of what  _ Batman  _ would do. I stepped into Batman’s shoes, did  _ everything  _ he would’ve done, and I wound up killing the friends I had left. And I  _ hate  _ that I did it,  _ hate  _ that I was capable of just letting the people I care about die  _ again―” _

The words catch in his throat. He lets out a shaky breath, pulling his knees up to his chest. “If it had been  _ me  _ in charge tonight, do you think the outcome would be different? Would we be  _ mourning  _ instead of celebrating?”

Kaldur doesn’t say anything for several long minutes. The silence grows increasingly more unbearable, but Robin’s mouth refuses to move. He toys with the idea of leaving the room and finding his mentor, prepared to tell him that maybe he’s not meant to be on a team.

“I believe it would be foolish to speak of  _ what ifs,”  _ Kaldur finally says. “Dwelling on such scenarios is a waste of time. What you  _ should  _ be focusing on is who you are as a leader.”

Robin looks up to Kaldur, raising an eyebrow.

“Though you do not wish to _be_ Batman, you still choose to make the decisions he would make,” Kaldur elaborates. “Rather than using the tools he has given you in your own way, you are trying to imitate. Focus less on what kind of leader _Batman_ is and spend more time figuring out what kind of leader _Robin_ is meant to be.”

“I don’t know where to start,” Robin says softly.

“I am willing to help you find your way,” Kaldur says, extending a hand towards Robin, “if you are willing to let me.”

Robin smiles, taking Kaldur’s hand. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have two more chapters written and two more on deck. Depending on how far I get into chapter four, I'll either update this next week or two weeks from now.
> 
> Či perel a phabaj kathar pesko kaš maj dur: A Romani proverb; the English equivalent would be "the apple does not fall far from the tree." (Paczolay, Gyula (1997). _European Proverbs in 55 languages._ DeProverbio.com. p. 259. ISBN 1-875943-44-7)


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